The Eyewitness Read online

  “You mean like multiple personalities?”

  Alec nodded. “Joe met her parents and spent time with them. It was thought that the challenging course load would settle her. For the most part, she found her niche in academia.”

  “That doesn’t sound like the kind of college coed who would go off alone with three guys she just met at a party.”

  “Again, that’s the conclusion I came to. Roofies may not have been in play when Joe was in college, but tranquilizers and drugs like Valium were. Combined with alcohol, you have a date-rape drug.”

  “Are you saying Oliver Gates was involved in . . . ?”

  “I don’t know, and neither did your father because he never found Katie Hughes. It’s like she disappeared off the face of the earth.”

  Alec rose from the sofa and approached the small liquor cabinet in the corner of the room. He selected the bottle of bourbon he bought Joe last Christmas and poured himself a glass. “Care to join me?”

  “No, thank you.” She handed the journal back to him. “Alec, I don’t want to solve a forty-year-old case. I just want to find the person who killed my father. And I want you to stop walking on eggshells around me and tell me what your gut says right now.”

  At the moment, they weren’t at each other’s throats. But if he had an ounce of self-preservation, his damn gut would shut its trap.

  Alec respected his captain and had trusted him with his life more than once in his career. In the last two hours, that trust had been chipped away piece by piece. And his relationship with the man was professional. To Em, Gates was a close family friend.

  Everything in Joe’s first notebook was a theory, an assumption about Gates.

  The instant Alec’s weight hit the sofa cushion, Emersyn popped up and began to pace. Let her fume. She must’ve been doing the same thing he had done over the last couple hours—trying to connect the dots from Joe’s past to the present.

  Alec’s upbringing had taught him how to spot evil. His trust in Oliver Gates may have dwindled, but he’d worked side by side with the man for seven years and wasn’t ready to label his boss a rapist or a murderer. But the sniper was evil to the bone. Alec could feel it at every crime scene.

  What kind of fucking game was this bastard playing with Em? Was the file a distraction, something to keep him and Em running in one direction while the murderer slipped away? If the information in the file was important enough to kill Joe, why wait almost forty years?

  Or had Joe finally found the answers he sought?

  Whatever the hell was going on, it had to do with the man Em spotted on the trail right before Joe was shot. Alec had to find a way to focus her on how she knew him.

  He reached under the sofa for the other two journals. At the same time, Em turned toward him, her eyes filled with fear. The color in her cheeks drained, leaving her skin a pale grayish tone. “Em, what’s wrong?”

  She tackled him, hitting his shoulder with enough force it heaved the sofa backward. His head and shoulders slammed into the hardwood floor as his legs tangled over him. Em landed hard on his chest, knocking the breath from his lungs.

  “What the hell?”

  The sound of breaking glass hit his ears at the same instant a high-pitch buzz cut through the air and something slammed into the sofa. Another shot hit the bay window behind them. Alec rolled Em off him and used his body to cover hers. His weapon rested on the floor two feet from the upturned sofa. Keeping his body over Em, he reached for it.

  “Alec. No!”

  The third shot sliced into the hardwood an inch from his hand. He jerked back and again covered her head.

  Footsteps pounded down the stairs. “Emersyn? What’s—”

  “Mom, stay in the stairwell! Call 911!”

  “Dialing. What’s going on?”

  “Gunfire. Someone tried to kill Alec.”

  Alec’s gaze darted toward Em. She’d saved his life by almost taking a bullet in the back. Fuck! It was his responsibility to protect her. Not the other way around.

  He rolled off her and held her tightly against him. “What were you thinking? Damn it, Em. How did you even know?”

  “Laser pointer,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “The shooter wavered, first pointing it at your head then at your heart.”

  He grabbed his shoes, caught halfway under the sofa, and slipped his bare feet into them. He reached for his weapon and released the safety as adrenaline pumped into his veins. The shooter had to be on the run, and it was up to Alec to make sure the bastard didn’t get far. He stood, but Em yanked hard on his wrist.

  “Where are you going?”

  “He’s on the move.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “He stopped shooting at us.”

  “But backup is on the way,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “He’ll be gone by then.” He tipped her chin up with his thumb. “Let me do my job.”

  Her grip tightened over his wrist, her nails digging into his skin. “It’s too dangerous and—”

  “It’s what I do, Em. Let go.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Damn it, pull it together. Emersyn eased into a standing position and surveyed a crime scene she couldn’t touch. The bullet that almost took off Alec’s fingers was inches from her toes. The other shot was embedded somewhere in the cotton filling of the sofa cushion, while the third was probably lost in the grass of the front lawn.

  “Emersyn?”

  Her mother’s tear-filled voice broke through her stupor, and Emersyn rushed into her arms. “I’m okay, Mom.”

  Tessa circled her arms around both of them. “You’re not okay. Someone tried to kill you in your own family room.”

  “The shooter was aiming for Alec, and the damn man went chasing after him, a handgun against an assault rifle.”

  “Good,” her sister whispered. “The shooter will be on the run, trying to get away after failing his mission.”

  There were times when Tessa’s analytical mind, the way she could push the emotions aside and see only the facts, bugged the hell out of Emersyn. If this wasn’t a moment for a little uncontrolled outrage, what was?

  “I would feel more comfortable in the foyer away from all the windows,” her mother said, leading them out of the family room.

  Emersyn dropped onto the third step of the staircase and brushed the mop of hair off her forehead. Her heart still pounded like a steel drum in her chest, and her stomach was deciding if it wanted to keep her dinner.

  Her mother took her left hand in hers. “You found the file.”

  Emersyn sucked at lying. The corner of the file was now visible beneath the upturned sofa’s right leg. “There were three personal journals with it.”

  “Why did you keep that from me?”

  “And me,” Tessa added.

  It was so tempting to say Alec had talked her into it. But that would be a lie. She’d made her choice. “Dad kept that file from all of us for years. I didn’t want that to hurt you.”

  “He was protecting us, Emersyn, a job he took seriously.”

  “Mom, I was trying to do the same thing.”

  Her mother joined her on the small step. “That’s not your job. I’ve protected you, keeping you safe your whole life.” She turned away, brushing a tear from her cheek. “Who is Joe D’Azzo to you, Emersyn?”

  The question threw her. “My dad, my life. I’m not sure how to go on without him.”

  “And that is how you will read what he left behind.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “By keeping this information from me, you are ignoring a huge part of this puzzle. It’s all about objective versus subjective point of view. You’re his daughter; you will decipher his private notes from the eyes of a daughter.”

  A light went off in Emersyn’s head. “I know the father, but you know the man.”

  “Ding, ding, ding,” Tessa whispered. “We all knew him in our own special way, including Alec. Each of us may see something
the other missed.”

  Before Emersyn could respond, the deafening sound of police sirens filled the foyer. Several loud knocks sounded at the front door.

  “I’ll get the door,” her mother said, standing. “Tessa, open the back door before they break through it.”

  Emersyn cringed as the street in front of her home filled with police vehicles of all shapes and sizes. While she gave her statement, the head of the criminal investigation division, Steven Handel, came through her front door followed by his team.

  He scanned the family room. “You haven’t messed with my crime scene, have you, D’Azzo?”

  “I’m fine. Thanks for asking. And I haven’t touched a thing.”

  He knelt in front of the bullet embedded in the hardwood. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.” He nodded toward the foyer. “Maybe you and your family would be more comfortable upstairs until we’re done.”

  His icy tone stepped on her last nerve. “I’m good here, thank you.”

  “Whatever you’re hiding about this bastard is going to get you killed.”

  “I’m hiding nothing. I know nothing.”

  Liar!

  “Whoever did this thinks differently. You’re a loose end. Next time, he may miss and hit a loved one.”

  His glare sent a chill through her bones. The condescending jerk had no right to barge into her home and talk to her in that tone. Her secrets kept her loved ones safe.

  She took in a cleansing breath and let it out slowly as she moved through the sea of law enforcement strangers crowding her family room.

  The old Emersyn wanted nothing more than to yell just where Steven could shove his opinions. But one glance at her sister standing next to her mother—posture straight, hands held loosely in front of her, and, most importantly, her mouth closed, the perfect example of decorum—made her pause. Being the better Emersyn was exhausting.

  Clamp your jaw shut and bite your tongue.

  Handel removed his camera from his case and photographed the bullet fragment from different angles. He would never extend the invitation to shadow him. It was up to her to ask.

  “I want to work with you on this,” Emersyn said.

  “No.”

  “I know my place here and won’t—”

  “You need to be placed in protective custody instead of working the damn case as if the sniper didn’t just try to smear your guts all over your family’s sofa.”

  “That’s a little crude, don’t you think, sir?” Emersyn’s mother asked.

  Speechless, Emersyn moved back as Handel rose.

  “Sorry, Mrs. D’Azzo. Didn’t mean to—”

  “Don’t apologize to me,” she said, nodding at Emersyn. “Neither my daughters nor I have any intention of allowing this guy to send us into hiding. That’s not the D’Azzo way.” She stepped farther into the room, crowding Handel’s personal space enough to make him take a step backward. “I don’t see my daughter’s request as unreasonable. She will eventually work alongside you and your team. Why not tonight?”

  Emersyn couldn’t decide if she was mortified that her mother was fighting her battles for her, or relieved. She touched her mom’s arm. “It’s okay. He isn’t being unreasonable. I’m too close to this case.”

  “If I’m not mistaken, having an eyewitness account of exactly what occurred would make your job easier,” her mother said, eyeing the man with a look that made the muscles in Handel’s shoulders tense. He was squirming.

  Emersyn swallowed her grin. The moment of glee lasted an instant before reality swished back around and struck her in the gut. Her gaze shot to the floor by the sofa. The file! Where was it? She hurled the cushions off the floor before dropping to her knees and shoving the heavy piece of furniture back several feet.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Handel yelled from behind her. He shoved her hands off the sofa’s armrest. “This is a crime scene! Even a rookie should understand the simple—”

  “God, I-I’m sorry,” she stuttered as she stumbled backward. Placing a hand on her wrist, she formed a lie in her mind, a desperate measure that had to work. No one could know about the file.

  “My bracelet,” she whispered, praying her mom and sister would play along. “I wasn’t thinking.” At least that part wasn’t a lie. “I was wearing a charm bracelet when I came downstairs. My father gave it to me hours before he died.” And for that lie, she would surely pay dearly. She rubbed her wrist. “It’s gone.” She scanned the room once more. The file and journals were nowhere in sight.

  Her mother placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure you were wearing it?” She turned toward Tessa. “Please check the small shelf above the sink in the hall bathroom. I’m sure I saw it there.”

  Emersyn swallowed a good spoonful of shame. Had she brought the file to her mother the instant she’d found it, it might still be in their possession.

  The bullet fragments were all she had left. The responsibility of ensuring the evidence extracted from the sofa and floor arrived to Angela without any interference fell to her now. Handel was an ass, and she couldn’t trust him yet. He was going to have to earn that.

  But why would the sniper want her and Alec dead tonight, and in such a horrific way? There had been other opportunities that weren’t so up close and personal. And why had he left breadcrumbs hinting at the file’s existence?

  The answer slammed into her gut. He needed it destroyed. Her father must have been close to solving the case, and the file was a roadmap right back to his killer. So, he’d created a diversion. And, during the confusion, the bastard walked right in as if he deserved to be there and took what he needed.

  Her father’s words, Follow the evidence, echoed in her head, giving her a measure of calm. It was a plan of action that made perfect sense. Since the only new evidence were the bullet fragments, she wasn’t going to take her eyes off them.

  She cleared her throat. “Handel, do you have an extra seat in the van?”

  “Why?”

  “I would like to accompany you back to the lab.”

  “No.”

  His answer shouldn’t have surprised her. Convincing him to change his mind would take cunning, and her bank was empty at the moment. Her mother nudged her chin toward the man, a clear message to try again.

  But “I don’t trust you with the evidence, and I would like to see it arrive untarnished” didn’t seem the right approach.

  He sat back on his heels. “Don’t have any faith in me, do you, D’Azzo?”

  Again, she swallowed. Enough lies. “It’s not personal.”

  “Feels damn personal from where I stand.”

  Okay, maybe honesty wasn’t the best policy. “Let me ask you, sir: If that bullet came at you through your family room window, wouldn’t you need to see it to the end?”

  His glare softened. “You are your father’s daughter. Never met a more stubborn man.”

  The grin came out in full force. “Thank you. I couldn’t be prouder to be compared to my dad.”

  After a quick glance at her mother, Handel shook his head and returned his attention to the large chunk of plank he’d extracted. “I won’t wait for you, so be ready and don’t touch a damn thing. If this evidence is thrown out of court, it’s on you.”

  “I found your bracelet and placed it on your nightstand.” Tessa handed Emersyn her coat and laptop bag, which also contained her wallet and cell phone.

  She gave her sister a quick hug then turned to Handel. “I’m ready to leave whenever you are.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The last gulp of coffee in Emersyn’s cup left a bitter taste in her mouth. It was her third refill in less than an hour, and the caffeine was useless against her flagging energy. She’d lost the file her father had spent forty years building.

  Before Alec charged out of the house, he held his Glock in one hand, but maybe the books were in his other hand, and she hadn’t noticed. He could have hidden them on his way out the back door. Her mom and sister would tear through the kitc
hen and text her as soon as they were found. In the meantime, Emersyn kept her gaze glued to Angela’s progress on the other side of the glass wall of the lab and prayed this endless day wouldn’t snap her in two.

  There were only two slugs to process. Handel had half of his team searching for the spot where the bastard had taken his shots, and the other half sectioning off her lawn in a grid pattern for the third bullet. As she drove away with him, several officers had been on their hands and knees combing through a sea of grass. It seemed such an impossible search, but he assured her they’d had success finding evidence before in a much larger area.

  She rolled her shoulders to ease the muscle strain. When she glanced back into the lab, Handel pinned her with another one of his nasty stares. Was there something about her personality that made men like Handel and Alec dislike her on sight? Handel said something to Angela in a low voice that didn’t carry into the hallway, but his expression spoke volumes. He didn’t want her there.

  Damn it to hell. She didn’t blame Handel for his animosity. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. She couldn’t trust anyone. Doubt about Alec had even slipped into her tired bones. Could he have suckered her into trusting him so that she would help him find the file?

  No. Dad trusted Alec. The assault rifle’s laser pointer had been aimed on Alec. The shooter wanted him dead, too. Until she had concrete evidence to the contrary, Alec remained one of the good guys.

  But where was he? He should have come back to the house before she left. What the hell was he doing? Chasing the guy into Pennsylvania? Couldn’t he at least let her know he was okay?

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out to check the text. Oliver Gates. There were two other texts from him and a missed call. She didn’t have to return it to know what he wanted. He knew she was alive but wanted her to stay clear of his damn case. Slipping her phone back into her pocket, she squared her shoulders and settled in for the wait. She didn’t give a damn what Oliver wanted. She would keep her eyes on the evidence until security carried her from the building.